Cowboys and Angels
by girlreadsalot
Summary: Dean Winchester is an adrenaline junkie with his eyes set on the national title. He's excited about strapping himself back onto a bull's back and riding out the longest eight-seconds of his life. Castiel Novak is a strange, quiet calf-roper who catches Dean's eye repeatedly. The two are polar opposites who may be destined to become more than friends! (A/U Destiel fic)
1. Shake Off the Where You Came From Dust

_**Okay, so this idea came to me and I really, REALLY, wanted a cowboy Destiel fic, so I decided to write one myself. Some things you should know:**_

_**1. There is such a thing as the National High School Rodeo Association (NHSRA) and many states have a branch. I'm from Pennsylvania and I'm a member of the PHSRA (Pennsylvania High School Rodeo Association). I'm not entirely sure if Kansas's is called the KHSRA, but that's what I'm calling it. **_

_**2. Dean and Castiel are our main characters. They're both teenagers. **_

**_3. It is a Destiel story._**

**_4. Will have enough lemonishness to let you know when/if Dean and Cas do the thing._**

**_5. Reviews are appreciated (please no flames) but constructive criticism is welcome! :) If you have any questions about the NHSRA feel free to ask!_**

**_6. Most of all, ENJOY!_**

**_XOXO,_**

**_Girlreadsalot_**

* * *

Dean was too tired to sleep, well, actually he _was_ tired. He could feel the prickling behind his eyes that let him know that yes, he was in fact, tired. He was just too excited. Unlike his little brother, Sam, who had his head resting against the window, his mouth hanging open as he lightly snored. The only thing Dean could do was stare out the window as the sun rose, thinking about his next eight-second ride.

Dean had gotten the rodeo fever when he was fifteen, and it continued to burn inside of him like an eternal flame. He breathed, slept, and ate bull riding. He and his brother were members of the KHSRA, the Kansas High School Rodeo association. It was great because they could compete against competitors their own age instead of adults that had decades worth of experience over them. But, Dean was a professional to say the least. The previous year, Dean Winchester was Kansas's KHSRA bull riding champion. He rode more bulls, scored higher, and wanted it more than any other contestant. The results paid off. He won a shiny silver buckle, and a trip to New Mexico. There, he brought home seventh in the nation victory.

People always ask him why he does it. "Dean, why do you ride bulls?" He just looks them dead in the eye and asks them why they ride roller-coasters, dream of sky-diving, or why they even drive too fast. It was because that eight-second rush was better than any drug could ever give him. It was pure adrenaline, jumping on the back of an animal that _literally_ weighed a ton and having absolutely no control over it as it did its best to throw you off, its best to kill you if you didn't get out of the way fast enough.

As they near the rodeo grounds Dean saw the familiar shapes of horse trailers and pickup trucks sitting in the flat field. These trailers weren't just room for horses. They were massive, fancy, five-figure campers in the front, with a place to haul horses in the back.

Dean and Sam weren't so fortunate. Along with their Uncle Bobby Singer, had to sleep in a tent for the rodeos, with Sam's gelding tied to the bumper-pull trailer at night. Bobby didn't have a lot of money, because from the day he took Sam and Dean under his wing he had spent virtually every cent he earned at his mom-and-pop garage, that was starting to look like a run-down hole in the ground, on Dean and Sam. So, Dean didn't complain when Bobby hauled him and his brother across the state and burnt every cent he had on them, over sleeping on the ground for a couple of days.

Bobby had taken his nephews in without a second though after his sister and her husband, John Winchester died in a house fire when Dean was young, and Sam was still a baby. The fire had started in Sam's nursery. By the time John had gotten in there, Mary had already passed out from smoke-inhalation. John had handed off baby Sammy to Dean, telling his oldest son to run outside as fast as he could. Moments later, the doorway collapsed, trapping John inside. The fire and smoke claiming his life as well.

Bobby drove the truck into the grassy field where the trailers were parked, hitting a pothole and causing Sam to wake up after he hit his head off the window. "Wha'?" He asked, sitting up.

"Good morning, sunshine." Dean said, smirking at Sam. "We're here." He peered out the window, looking good place to recommend to Bobby for parking the trailer. "Oh look, there's a spot next to Ellen and Jo."

Bobby expertly backed the small horse trailer into the spot. "Y'all need to get your back numbers put on. Got it?"

"Yes, sir!" Dean shouted.

"Idjit." Bobby muttered.

Dean didn't stay in the truck long enough to hear the rest of what Bobby had to say. "How are you doing, Ellen?" He asked, hugging the smaller woman. "I haven't seen you in a while."

"That's because you always show up late!" Jo said, climbing out of the camper part of their trailer. She put her hat on her blonde head and finished tucking in her pink western shirt.

"What can I say?" Dean asked, grinning at her flirtatiously. "I like to make an entrance. Besides, it's not my fault! It's the loose nut behind the wheel."

"Yeah right." Bobby scoffed, rolling his brown eyes. "You don't get your ass out of bed."

The previous year, Dean and Jo had kind of been a "thing". They were never anything official, which was the way Dean liked it. They would just meet up after the rodeo behind the bucking chutes and make out before heading off to bed.

"What time is the student meeting?" Dean asked, looking at Jo.

"In fifteen minutes."

Dean turned back toward the truck and put his black cowboy hat on his head. When he turned around he groaned to himself.

Sam was standing there, looking at his girlfriend, Ruby, who wasn't talking _to_ him, but talking _at _him. He nodded and said something to her, which caused her to shake a small finger at him.

Ruby was the Rodeo Queen/snob. She thought she was better than everyone else—she always had—the previous year she was the All Around Cowgirl, the points leader in every single event, which just caused her ego to skyrocket. Then, winning the title of queen just made everything ten times worse.

Dean though Sam and Ruby's relationship was kind of a weird one. He didn't understand how his brother could date somebody so shrill and demanding. Sam was a nice guy, who was dedicated to his school work. If an orphanage was on fire, he'd rush in to save them, whereas Ruby would roast marshmallows and let it burn.

Dean and Jo started making their way to the wooden grandstands. Despite the grass sticking to the toes of their boots as they walked due to the dew, Dean could tell it was going to be a scorching hot August day. They climbed the wooden bleachers, still damp from the coolness of the night, and sat down. He talked to Jo about her summer and watched as other contestants came filing in and taking a spot on the bleachers.

Ava climbed up the railing of the arena and sat on it, facing the bleachers. A clipboard was balanced on her lap. "Alright, guys. This is the first rodeo of the year, I'm Ava, I'm your student-body president. I'm going to take role, so say you're hear when I call your name." She started listing off names, various calls of "here" echoed one another.

"Ash?"

"Present and accounted for!" Ash drawled, a smirk on his face.

The kids chuckled.

"Dean Winchester?"

"Here." Dean called, tipping his chin up at her.

She called off a few more names before pausing at one. She frowned, as if she wasn't sure how to say it. "Cast-eye-el Novak?"

"It's Cast-E-el." Somebody a few rows behind Dean corrected.

Dean, along with many others, turned to see the newcomer.

He was sitting on the last bleacher, his dark brown hat pulled down low over his blue eyes, his brown hair peeking out from under the hatband. His blue paisley shirt was tucked in as he sat with his hands clasped in front of him. His blue eyes didn't look at any of the others staring at him, treating him like he was an alien, they just focused on his hands.

"Sorry about that." She continued to check off the last handful of names before saying, "Okay guys, Dick has something to say to you guys."

"Alright now," Dick Roman said, coming forward to speak his piece.

Dean stifled an eye-roll. He hated that guy.

"We're performing for a crowd today, so we gotta keep things moving. Barrel racers and pole benders, you have thirty seconds from the time we announce your name and the judge motions for you to come forward to be headed down the alley. It's a tight squeeze down there, so watch your knees when you turn that end gate. Got it?"

The students bobbed their heads.

"Alright, we need student directors for the year. Starting with the bronc riding and movin' on down the line."

Various kids volunteered for the first few events.

"Team roping?"

Nobody moved.

Dean grinned over the bleachers at Jo, who had shaken her head fiercely. She had done it the previous year and wanted nothing to do with it this one.

"Mr. Winchester, I see you volunteered!" Dick said, grinning smugly.

"Me?" Sam and Dean asked at the same time.

"Sir," Sam said, "I'm _in_ the team roping."

"Your brother, Sam."

_Great_, Dean thought. _This is what I get for being in only one event._

"Come on Dean, you'll like it. All you have to do is sit there and look pretty. Anybody else? I'll start picking from you."

"I'll do it." Castiel said putting his hand up. "I don't have an event until tie-down roping anyway."

"Very good."

Dean didn't listen as Dick droned on and on. His green eyes drifted to the stock-pens behind the arena. It looked like the stock was going to be good this year. The bulls today were pretty large, but he wasn't scared.

"Attitude check!" Dick exclaimed.

"Praise the lord!" Everyone echoed back, with a few eye rolls.

"Alright, be ready to ride in two hours! The arena will be open for warmup until we kick you out to water it down and drag it. Get out of here!"


	2. Boots, Chaps, and Cowboy Hats

Dean wiped his forearm across his forehead. He had been right about it being hot. It was Hell. He was practically roasting alive in his dark blue-green western shirt, a requirement for the rodeo contestants. He had been one-hundred-percent right about it getting hot. It was already noon and he thought he was going to melt into his well-worn ropers.

Sighing, he went back to stretching and powdering his bull-ropes.

"Ladies and gentlemen," The announcer said, sounding like professional radio DJ as he spoke through the microphone in a smooth, deep voice. "Welcome to the first KHSRA rodeo of the season, held here at the lovely Gumble fairgrounds. Please rise and remove cover, and feel free to sing along because this is _your_ National Anthem. The colors are being flown by the lovely, Miss Jo Harvelle."

Dean moved out from behind the bucking chutes, removing his black felt hat as he did so, pressing it to his chest as he watched Jo lope her big sorrel mare around the arena, the Stars and Stripes billowing in the breeze behind her as her horse moved underneath her.

"Psst," Somebody his to his left.

Dean frowned and glanced over at whoever was talking to him. He had to press his lips hard together to not burst out in hysterical laughing. "Ash, you weren't kidding about the mullet."

Ash grinned at him and shook his head slightly, his hat pressed to his chest as well. "You're supposed to have your chaps on. This is a _fair_! Did you see the spectators out there? They're doing the whole she-bang."

Dean nodded, mentally kicking himself. He bowed his head respectfully, during the prayer, despite the fact he didn't really believe in God. Then, he quickly moved to put on his black chaps with metallic blue tassels and stars on the thighs.

He watched Ruby enter the arena as he buckled them, his fingers knew the buckles well enough that he could probably do it blindfolded. She was a flurry of leather, tassels and rhinestones. Her fake smile perfect as she waved to the crowd. It was one of the perks of being the rodeo queen. It was like being Miss America...only for rodeo kids in Kansas.

Dean shook his head and moved to the alleyway, waiting to enter it after all of the horses and their riders were cantering inside and exiting out the exit gate.

"We going by age?" He asked Ash, pushing his black hat down onto his brown hair.

Ash nodded.

"Great, we're at the end."

"Do you know how _long_ we waited to get here?" Ash asked, a brown brow raised. "I ain't gonna complain."

Dean nodded as the announcer said, "Ladies and gentlemen, there are some contestants that didn't ride through the arena so you could see them. These are the guys people call crazy, the guys who will be screwing themselves down onto the back of a seventeen-hundred pound animal today because they like the rush. These young men are called..._bull riders_."

Dean's heart pounded painfully in his chest as he announced the handful of names before his own. He felt the blood coursing through his veins as he hopped up and down in the sand. He moved up as Ash walked into the arena.

"Our final bull rider today goes by the name of Dean Winchester." The announcer boomed.

Dean moved forward, a cocky smirk on his face as he strutted into the arena. He grinned at the crowd.

"This young man was Kansas's number one last year. He moved on to the National Finals Rodeo only to come home _seventh_ in the _nation_."

The crowd erupted into whoops and hollers, cheering and whistling.

This was the kind of attention that Dean fed off of. Dean lifted his hat off his head, and raised it high in the air, nodding his head once, before standing by Ash.

"You're eating this up, you attention whore!" Ash exclaimed as he tipped his hat too.

"Don't you know it." Dean said smirking at him before the line of bull riders exited the arena.

Dean decided it was just better than to stay out of the bronc riders' way, so he went back to the truck and trailer.

"Ain't you got a rodeo to be at?" Bobby asked, peering squinty-eyed over his card hand.

Ellen was sitting across from him at a small card table under her trailer awning, her glasses down over her nose as she concentrated on the cards at her hand.

"I'm getting there." Dean said, smirking at him before digging through the backseat of the truck, producing two Little Debbie apple pies. "I was just getting hungry."

"You're always hungry."

Dean nodded and walked back up to the arena in time to watch Ruby run down the arena on her pricey-as-hell quarter horse and jump off. She ran, picked up the goat tied to the stake and sat it on the ground. Her tie was quick and efficient.

He rolled his eyes as she was declared the winner of the goat-tying class. He wanted to puke at the cocky smirk on her lips as she led her horse down the arena out of the way.

"I ain't been on a bull since nationals." Ash drawled as he leaned against the empty bucking chutes.

"Neither have I." Dean replied, watching the hustle and bustle of the contestants around them. All of them had one goal in common. To be the best. To make it out to Wyoming the next summer, where they would hopefully aspire to be the best in the nation. But everybody pretty much treated each other like a very competitive extended family.

Andy's little brother, Tod was running around with another Junior High School contestant's hat. She was yelling at him, as she attempted to catch up.

Jo was talking to Charlie who was nodding, Ruby was talking to Sam, who was getting ready to go into the box for steer wrestling, which was never his strongest event.

"Ash!" Jo snapped, trotting her roping horse over to the chutes, a dark bay horse that almost looked black. "Where is your horse? We have Team Roping in two events!"

Ash rolled his eyes and stomped off to get his gelding so he could heel for his sister.

"Gotta keep him in line for me, Dean." Jo said grinning at him flirtatiously.

"I'll do my best, Jo." He turned to watch as Sammy put his horse in the box. Steer wrestling he was the event in rodeo that required the most muscle. One nodded, so they let the steer out of the box and as the steer ran down the arena, the cowboy on his horse followed. When he got along side the steer, he'd lean off and jump off, grabbing the steer by the horns and nose. Then, they cowboy had to muscle the steer to the ground to stop the timer.

Sam nodded his head and the steer ran from the chute, then Sam's horse was right behind it. Sam leaned his long frame over and he seemed to hang in the air over the steer forever before he made the jump, dug his heels in the dirt and pulled the steer's head tight to his chest.

Dean watched his younger brother struggle with the nine-hundred pound animal before successfully rolling it onto its side. Sam rose, his white shirt, stained with dirt. He shook his head, that wasn't an event he'd want to find himself doing, even though he was probably strong enough to accomplish it. He tried not to eat dirt at all times.

Hopping off the back of the bucking chutes, Dean tossed the last empty pie box aside, the remaining pie clenched in his fist as he hopped the railing and walked through the deep sand of the arena.

That new kid, Castiel was already standing at the stripping chute talking to Dick and Mr. Crowley, the arena judge. His blue eyes were squinted in the harsh sunlight as he asked questions, pointed down at the clipboard.

"Are you always eating, son?" Dick asked Dean.

Dean bobbed his head once, stuffing the remainder of the apple pie in his mouth before talking. "So, what are we supposed to do?"

"First of all, finish chewing." Dick said, with a sneer.

Dean rolled his eyes, not giving a shit if Dick was going to reprimand him for it or not. He swallowed the last of the pie, a bite so big it was painful, and restated his previous question.

"I explained everything to Castiel already. He can tell you." Dick said before turning and storming off.

"Thanks for telling me that after choking, _Dick_." Dean didn't mean for Dick's name to sound like a name. He had every intention of making it sound like the very piece of anatomy the four letters commonly referred to.

Castiel turned to him, his blue eyes wide. "Well, that was mildly insulting."

Dean blinked at the smaller teen. He had only heard Castiel say a few words earlier and the deep, gravelly sound in his voice was shocking. "Sorry, uh, so what do we do."

Castiel looked at the clipboard, then to Dean. "Well, I'll look at the number of the ear tag on the steer and see which team its paired with. You can radio it up to the announcer's stand so they can call the correct team in."

Dean took the walkie-talkie and brought it to his lips. "Check, one-two."

"Quit messing around, Dean." The stern voice of one of the women in the booth said across the radio. "We have a rodeo to run, so if you don't mind, please read the tag."

Once again, Dean found himself rolling his eyes.

Castiel would call out the numbers on the yellow tags that were stuck in the steers' ears, and Dean would echo them to the announcer's booth. Then, the announcer would call the contestants that were supposed to rope that particular cow.

Dean stood back, grinning lightly as Ash totally messed up and didn't give Jo an appropriate opportunity to throw her loop. And he beamed in pride as Ruby headed the steer effortlessly (the grin not so much directed towards her as to it was Sam) and Sam swung his rope, catching both of the steer's hind heels.

Dean and Castiel continued to work until the team roping event was finished.

"So Castiel," Dean asked Castiel as they climbed through the fence of the arena. "What events do you do?"

"I participate in the tie-down roping."

"Why not team roping?"

Cas stuck his hands in his jeans pockets, his eyes looking anywhere but Dean as he looked uncomfortable. "I just never had a partner."

Dean didn't know what to say. His entire life he had always been liked by those around him—girls more than anybody—he put on a cocky face and attitude that got him attention. The snarky comments made people thing he was funny. He made sure his arrogance got him recognized. "Oh, uh...I'm sorry to hear about that. Hey, why don't you ask my brother Sammy if you guys can get together sometime and throw a little twine?"

"Okay." Castiel looked unsure. "Well, I have to go get my mare warmed-up." He turned, walking away, his eyes glued onto the gravel drive in front of him.

Dean picked his way back to chutes, where he felt most at home, pausing only to talk to a brunette-bombshell named Bela. It was her first year as a member of the KHSRA, and Dean said he'd love to show her around the bucking chutes anytime. Preferably at night, when all the parents were sleeping and their rodeo protegee children came out to play.

He liked to stay out of the way during the barrel racing event, which was timed event for cowgirls only. A lot of the barrel horses tended to get hot in the alley. They'd either go blasting in mach ninety with their hair on fire and trample you to death, or fly backwards at an incredibly fast pace, rearing and bucking, also resulting in being trampled.

"Our next cowgirl is Jo Harvelle, she's a seventeen year old senior out of Jackson, Kansas. She participates in goat-tying, team roping, barrel racing, pole bending, and breakaway roping. Come a runnin' Jo!" The announcer boomed, music blaring through the speakers.

"Get out of the way!" Jo shrieked, her black mare prancing and tossing her head. The mare pranced forward, then flew backwards, nearly hitting Adam Mulligan. Jo spurred her mare in the sides, kissing to it to get her moving, but the mare simply refused.

Without a second thought, Dean jogged over and grabbed the mare by the reins.

"What are you doing?!" Jo was in a panic, they had just called her second call. She had ten more seconds to be running.

"Trust me!" Dean shouted. He bent his head and took off running, the mare following him hot on his heels, nearly tripping him.

"Let go!"

Dean heard her a split second too late, because when the black horse found the entrance to the alley it took off like a rocket, shoving Dean against the pen inside. He saw stars as he cracked his head off a pipe and then blinked them out of his vision.

"Come on, get up!" A voice said at his elbow.

Dean's ears were ringing, but he followed the person out of the alleyway so they could shut the gate.

"Are you alright?"

Dean recognized the young man as one of the bull fighters, but didn't remember his name. Dean nodded, taking off his hat and rubbing the goose-egg that was already forming on the back of his head. "Yeah, I'm fine. Nothin' like being run over by a fifteen-hundred pound animal to wake you up in the morning."

The gate at the end of the alley swung open and Jo's horse pranced out. She flung herself off in a flurry of blonde hair and stood in front of him, her horse breathing heavily. "Dean Winchester!" She demanded, red-faced. "What the hell did you think you were doing?!" She shouted. "I damn-near killed you, you stupid son-of-a-bitch!"

"I was helping you out, Jo. Besides, I want you to kick Ruby's ass this year somehow."

"Good luck with that." Ruby said, leading her buckskin gelding out of the alley the world's most smug-grin on her face. Behind her, the announcer exclaimed. "We have a new leader with a time of fifteen-five-two! That knock's Jo Harvelle in second place.

"Come on!" Jo and Dean exclaimed at the same time throwing their hands up in their air, then laughing at each other.

"Thanks, Dean." She said grinning at him.

"Anytime."


	3. Bulls, Blood, Dust and Mud

_**Oh my god you guys! TEN story follows and FIVE favorites?! You guys are the best! 3 3 3 **_

_**I come bearing some bad news, though. I'm going to Wyoming for the NHSRA finals and I'm leaving Wednesday, so I'm not sure if I'll be able to update before I leave or not. I'll be out there for about two weeks. But don't worry, I'll take my notebook and scribble down ideas and hopefully the next few chapters! If you want to keep up with me and my rodeo stuff you can find my blog at  .com .**_

_**You guys are wonderful! **_

_**XOXO,**_

_**Girlreadsalot**_

* * *

After his near-death experience with Jo's psychotic horse, Dean once again found himself on his rightful perch above the red bucking chutes, alongside Ash wouldn't shut up about how pissed Jo was about him missing the head of his steer earlier.

"It ain't my fault!" He exclaimed. "I'm a bull rider, not a damned twine tosser!"

Dean wasn't really listening. He was just nodding his head and picking at the black grime that seemed to permanently lodge itself under his stubby fingernails. Between working on his '67 Impala and riding bulls, he was a dirty boy.

His dark green eyes drifted to the arena, where the calf ropers were waiting for their turn in the box, their horses twitching their ears and swishing their tails lazily. His gaze paused on a gray mare he'd never seen before.

Castiel was sitting in the saddle, looking totally at ease, as if he had been born in the fifteen inches of suede and leather. His dark brown hat casting a shadow in his face. He fiddled with his rope constantly—something most ropers were prone to doing—as he watched the other contestants perform. His free hand rested on the pommel of his saddle, not even touching the leather reins.

Even though Dean didn't ride, he knew finding natural talent like that was rare. Of course, it was difficult to judge if somebody had natural talent and horsemanship when both rider and animal were standing still.

When it was his turn to go, Castiel urged his mare—which could have passed for white if it hadn't been for its dark grey (almost black) legs and its black mane and tail—into the roping box.

She stood stock still, her ears forward, head raised, waiting for the cowboy's cue.

Castiel nodded his head once in a hard downward motion. His jaw set in a determined line, despite the fact that he had his pigging string in his mouth.

The black calf burst out of the chute, on a dead sprint for the opposite end of the arena, Castiel's horse not far behind.

Castiel swung his rope four times before he threw it. The loop sailed over the head of the calf and found its mark around the animal's neck. Castiel pulled the slack in the rope tight, his horse sliding to a stop and kicking up a cloud of dust in the process. In the blink of an eye, he was off the right side of his horse, and had muscled his way to the calf. In no time at all, he had the calf flanked and lying in the dust. Castiel gathered three of its legs, pulled the pigging string from between his clenched teeth and made a tight hooey knot. He threw his hands so hard in the air it threw him off balance.

"Alright ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Novak has to get back on his big gray horse, ride forward, and let slack out of the line. If that calf stays tied for six seconds we have ourselves a winner!" The announcer crowed.

Castiel climbed back into the saddle and rode his mare forward five steps before asking her to whoa once again. He reached down and stroked her neck. The seconds ticking by like time was slowed way down.

"Can we hear it for Castiel Novak for bringing in a dandy time of..." He paused for a dramatization. "_ten-point-oh-four_!"

Dean and Ash looked at each other, one with surprise and the other impressed with the new member of the KHSRA's performance.

"Dean," Victor Henrikson said, "Get off the bucking chutes, son. Or do you not want to ride bulls today?"

Dean grinned down at the Stock Contractor for the KHSRA. He was a nice guy, and he was fond of Dean for some reason Dean couldn't quite fathom. He was always picking on Dean, so it was probably a good thing that Dean knew how to take it as well as he could dish it out.

"Which bull is Spin Cycle?" Dean asked, hopping off the red-painted chute and standing in front of the African-American man.

"That big brindle one, over there."

Dean nodded. The bull was larger than average, but it wasn't the biggest beast he'd ever been on. Besides, it still had its horns, which meant that it wasn't aggressive as most. Still dangerous? Yes. Still angrier than hell? Yes. But there was a sixty-five percent chance it wasn't going to gore Dean with its horns.

"Any advice?"

Victor grinned, "Dig your heels in, keep your free hand up, and hold on tight. He's gonna give you one hell of a ride."

Dean put on his leather glove, feeling the familiarity of the soft leather on his palm. He inspected his rigging once, twice, and then again a third time. Just to be safe. "Which on are you on?" He asked, joining Ash in the steel grate that served as a makeshift floor for the bucking chutes, so the cowboy had a place to stand.

"They call him Buttermilk Biscut." He said, stooping over the bull to loosely strap on his gear. "He's the biggest one out of the whole damn herd!"

"Holy shit!" Dean agreed staring at the dark gold colored bull. "He's a _huge_ son-of-a-bitch!"

Ash nodded, glancing up at Dean with eyes that held fear and excitement all in one.

Dean turned and fastened on his chaps, his eyes scanning the crowd as they observed the rodeo. Whether they were just resting from a long day of fair festivities it didn't matter much to Dean. The only thing he needed from his sunburnt onlookers was for them to cheer as loudly as they possibly could the moment he strapped himself onto his bull.

Dean put on his black chest protector, it was like a bullet-proof vest, only for bulls. It would keep him for getting a broken rib...or three if a bull decided to headbutt him in the chest. He traded his hat for a helmet that had a face mask (it resembled a hockey helmet). "Do you know who is first?"

"Him." Ash said pointing with a gloved hand to a kid who was hovering over a flea-bitten bull in chute-gate number five. "Then him, me, him, then you, then him." He said pointing to bull riders going about their various tasks.

Dean nodded once again before hopping lightly from foot to foot. He shook his arms and legs, trying to loosen up. He stretched out his arms, shook out his legs, cracked his neck, then his knuckles. He took out his rigging and with well-practiced motions he fastened it to the large, brindle bull. He made sure the ropes were in their proper positions and that they weren't too tight just yet.

He straightened up in time to see the guy who rode before Ash get thrown off. The kid stumbled a few steps in the deep sand before making a hasty retreat up the fence to avoid trampling hooves and thrashing horns.

That was the thing about bulls. They were terrifying in their own right. It wasn't because of their size or even their horns. It was the literal _ton_ of "you can't make me" attitude. They knew they were big. They defiantly stand there while the pick up men were cracking whips at them, the bull fighters attempting to corral them back into the pens where they belong. Finally, they go, but only because they chose to. Not because they were forced.

Dean shook his head and hovered over his bull, pulling the straps tight.

"You ready?" Ash asked leaning over him. His face was streaked with dirt, his shirt was too, and his white hat was crushed. It appeared that he'd been thrown off his bull and Dean missed it.

Dean nodded before putting in his mouth-guard, which was attached to his helmet . He lowered himself onto Spin Cycle's back, causing the bull to lurch underneath him. With his left hand, Dean gripped the side of the cramped bucking cute as he wiggled his right hand between the ropes until they were nice and tight.

"Coming out of chute-gate number three is the guy Kansas calls Number One." The announcer said as the beginning of _Welcome to the Jungle _ by Guns 'n Roses echoed behind his deep, smooth voice.

Dean's heart raced and his blood roared in his ears.

"He's a seventeen year old Senior who attends Samuel Colt High School, Lawrence Kansas is where that cowboy hangs his hat. Ladies and Gentlemen, can I hear you scream for _Dean Winchester_?!"

Dean threw his left hand in the air and nodded his head hard. Gripping the ropes with his right hand he felt the bull launch himself out of the chute.

Spin Cycle bucked forward, his heels throwing Dean forward onto his withers, before the bull started a tight twist to the right.

Dean kept kicking and spurring the hell out of the bull in the hopes that he could regain his center of gravity. Knowing, in the midst of the slowest ten seconds of his life, that if he could get squared back onto the bull's back that he would fall off and not make the required eight seconds, thus disqualifying him. It was nearly impossibly with centripetal force and the animal working against him. It was keeping him to the left side of the bull, and keeping him off balance. He couldn't hear a thing, not the crowd roaring, the announcer, or the bell strapped under the bull. He was just listening for that buzzer.

Just when Dean was positive he was going to wind up eating his weight in dirt...

_WHAAAAAAAAA_!

Dean pried his right hand from the bull ropes and jumped off the still bucking bull's back. He kept low to avoid sharp hooves from hitting him I the head...or worse. He took off his helmet after he climbed up the railing to the fence and raised it in the air, grinning as the audience roared.

To him, that was what it was about.


	4. Standing Toe to Toe

_**Okay guys, this is a long chapter (please don't expect them all to be this long) I'm back from Nationals! Also, if you'd like to see some picture of my trip, or just rodeo in general you can follow my blog on tumblr, one-good-turn-after-another or my other blog (it has Supernatural as on of my main things I reblog) findthecureforstupid. Also, read, review, enjoy! **_

_**XOXO, Girlreadsalot**_

_**P.S. Thank you SO much for all the follows/favs. It really makes my day! **_

* * *

"Dean, wake up."

"What?" He demanded, moving his hat from over his face, irritation coloring his tone and reflecting on his face. "I need my beauty sleep."

"I think it's safe to say you beauty slept."

"Shut up."

"Let's go ride the rides."

Dean looked at his younger brother, his brown eyes wide as he knelt next to Dean. He looked like a puppy. God, he knew Dean couldn't say no to the puppy face. It was the face Sam would use if he had a nightmare and wanted to sleep in Dean's bedroom or if Dean had a candy bar and Sam wanted half. Dean caved every time.

"Don't be such a Debbie-Downer." Jo said, moving the tent-flap aside and peering in behind Sam. Behind her stood Ruby, Ava, Andy, Ash, and Charlie. She was in a light pink tanktop, her shorts hugging her legs in just the right spot, her barrel racing buckle hung from her hips, and her boots and spurs covered her feet. She looked damn good.

Dean sat up, wiping a hand across his lightly freckled face, before putting his hat back on. He, unlike most of the others, hadn't changed out of his rodeo attire before he fell asleep in the tent. He pulled his boots on, careful not to drag his spurs across the lining of the tent, so they didn't cut the fabric and stepped out into the cooler evening air.

The sun was starting to go down, and across the grounds, the colored lights of all the carnival rides were on and the shrieks of fair-goers as they rode them could be heard. The air smelled like fried food and dust. A smell Dean was fond of.

"The creature awakes!" Andy said waving his fingers at Dean.

Dean stuffed his hands in his jeans, rolling his eyes. Most of these people were Sam's friends. Not his. And for the record, he found that most of Sam's friends were quirky and odd...and annoying. He couldn't forget annoying. The only ones he could tolerate were Jo, Ash, and Charlie.

He followed behind them as they walked through the rows of trailers. Horses stood tied to them or in small pens next to them. All of them swishing their tails lazily and twitching at the flies.

"Are you still wearing your back number?" Jo asked, slowing her long-legged pace to match Dean's.

He nodded. "I'm still in my clothes from earlier."

"I was just wondering, because the Carnies will let you on rides for free if you have it on." She tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder and smirked at him. "I'll bet you're afraid of the Zipper."

"Am not."

"Okay." She chuckled, shoving him.

Dean grinned at her. He swore she was getting prettier and prettier each time he saw her. Which was mostly during the rodeo season, but Ellen brought her and Ash down to hang out sometimes.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw movement that made him pause to take a look.

Castiel was holding a bucket of water up to his mare. He gent caressed her nearly white coat as she drank. When the horses didn't seem interested in the bucket anymore, Castiel set it on the ground and stepped out of her pen, shutting the gate behind him.

"Are you coming?" Jo asked. She was ahead of him now, and she stopped when she noticed Dean was no longer trailing along behind her.

"Go ahead, I'll be right there." He told her. Dean wasn't sure what had possessed him to leave his friends and head to the new guy's trailer, but his feet were headed there nonetheless. When he got there he tentatively knocked on the screen door before he could convince himself that it was a stupid idea.

Castiel opened the screen door, his dark brow pulled low over his startling blue eyes, like he wasn't sure if he should be worried. His brown hair was mussed and tousled, like he had just run his hands through it. "Hello, Dean."

His deep and rugged voice took Dean aback once again. He blinked a few times before saying, "Uh, hi."

"Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, I just wanted to congratulate you on your winning time earlier. You did great."

Castiel shifted uncomfortably. "Um, thank you."

They stood in silence for a few minutes. The air uncomfortable and awkward between them. Dean didn't want to seem like a stalker. He didn't need _that_ reputation. "We're all going down to the carnival...are you busy?"

"I was going to make sandwiches." Castiel looked a little uncomfortable. "I could make you one if you'd like."

Dean's stomach growled at the thought of food. "Uh, I was going to head to the carnival and grab a burger there. You can come if you want." He wasn't sure where the spontaneous offer had come from, but he felt a little socially inapt after the word-vomit outburst.

Slowly, a grin stretched across the blue-eyed boy's feature, revealing perfectly straight teeth. "Sure." He reached for the brown felt hat and placed in on his rumpled, dark brown hair.

"So Cas," Dean said as they walked down the narrow, dusty road, following the smell of funnel cake, the flash of lights, and the shrill screams of kids on rides. "Can I call you that?"

Castiel shrugged, not meeting Dean's gaze. "I don't care."

"Okay Cas, where are you from?"

"I'm from Gumble."

"No shit!" Dean exclaimed. "I'm from Lawrence!" The distance from Gumble to Lawrence was only a half an hour. Most kids who lived in Gumble attended Samuel Colt High School that was in Lawrence. Dean didn't ever recall seeing Castiel.

"What school do you go to?"

"I don't." Cas admitted. "I'm cyber schooled."

"Really?" Bobby would have never even let Dean consider the idea. Dean could hear him now, "_What? Are you tryna become an __**idjit**_?" Because _idjit_ was Bobby's favorite word.

Castiel nodded and scratched at a spot in the middle of his back, wincing slightly.

Dean spotted Charlie, Sam and Ruby at the funnel cake stand. It wasn't hard to find Sam, considering he was a six-foot-five moose. "I want a funnel cake." He said clapping his younger brother on the back.

Sam rolled his eyes until he saw Castiel standing behind Dean, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Hey, uh, you're Castiel...right?"

Castiel nodded, seemingly surprised that someone other than Dean was talking to him.

Sam held out his hand. "_Awesome_ calf-tying run, man. That was incredible!"

Castiel's face flushed pink. "Thank you."

"Who did you buy your mare off of? I mean, she's just phenomenal!"

Dean hoped that Sammy wasn't getting dreams of grandeur about owning a horse like Castiel's. A horse that good at doing its job probably cost five-figures or more. Which, was way too much money for the family that slept in a tent at rodeos instead of a plushy horse trailer.

"She was ours since she was born."

"You trained her?"

Castiel looked uncomfortable again. He scratched at his back once more. The look of discomfort vanished and his face became unreadable. "My father. She had belonged to my father."

Dean felt a sharp pang of sympathy for Castiel. After loosing his dad and mom at the same time, it had hit he and Sammy pretty hard. It had hit Dean harder than he had ever let on. Even though he was just young.

Sam's face morphed into a truly sympathetic expression. "I'm sorry about your dad..."

"He isn't dead." Cas said.

Sam looked relieved. "Oh, well, we'll have to play a game of horse sometime."

Castiel's eyebrows pulled low over his blue eyes, he was clearly confused. "What is _horse_?"

"C'mon, Cas!" Dean said, "Even _I_ know what horse is." At the other boy's unwavering blank expression he continued, "Like in basketball...only with ropes...for cowboys?" Dean shurgged when Cas still looked lost. "Don't worry about it. We'll show you the ropes." He clapped Castiel on the back, but quickly dropped his hand to his side when he felt the calf-roper tense.

"Dean!" Jo exclaimed, rushing up to him, her blonde hair a wild, tangled mess, her blue eyes bright with excitement. "Come ride the Ring of Fire with me! It's awesome!"

Dean grinned at her, "Alright. Do you like rides, Cas?"

"I'm...not sure." He said hesitantly.

"What do you mean?"

"I've never been to a carnival before."

Dean blinked slowly, trying to wrap his head around the fact that Castiel had never been to a carnival. He had never had the chance to eat horrible funnel cake, play rigged games, and scream while he thought the rides were gonna shake apart. He shook his head once to clear his mind. "Well, we're gonna have to fix that."

It didn't take much coaxing to get convince Cas to stand in the line for the looked roller-coaster track that served as the Ring of Fire. But, once he was strapped in car nice and tight, he looked a little worse for ware.

"Dude, you ain't gonna hurl...are ya'?" Ash asked, his brown eyes wide as he start at Castiel next to him.

Cas's blue eyes shot daggers at him, but he stayed silent.

"Don't be such a jackass, Ash." Jo chastised her brother from Dean's right. "He's never rode rides before!"

Dean gripped the handles of his harness right, a broad grin stretching across his face as the ride lurched forward before it drifted back. Slowly, at first, then it picked up speed; going faster, and faster, and getting closer, and closer to being upside down with each forward and backward pitch.

While Jo giggled, Sam laughed, Ruby screamed, Ash whooped and threw out the "rock on" symbol, Cas had a look of utter bliss on his face as the ride took its passengers upside down, the wind rushing past their ears in a deafening roar.

Slowly, Castiel smiled. Not just a light grin, but a broad smile, a look of true happiness that showed his perfectly white, perfectly straight teeth.

For some reason, Dean found the other boy's smile contagious and found himself laughing and smiling with the rest of them, having the most fun he'd had in a long time.

Eventually, the ride shuddered to a gear-grinding halt, assaulting their ears with its loud screeching. When they all gathered at the ride's exit once again, Dean looked at Castiel. "How was that?"

"It was...different." He said slowly in his deep, gravelly voice, very unnatural for a seventeen year old senior in high school.

"Good different or bad different?"

Cas thought for another moment. A small grin was visible on his lips in the multicolored, flashing lights that illuminated the heavy darkness. "Good different."

"Good."

They walked along the fair, passing carnies that rasped out catcalls and things to reel the people passing by to play their games. Like, "Two balls for a dollar!" and "Gets a prize every time!"

Dean was pretending he didn't notice Jo staring at him out of the corner of his eye. And, how every time he looked at her, she glanced away and acted like she hadn't been staring. He like playing hard to get and he hoped she liked chasing him. Although, he was certain she would. She never failed to blush when he flirted with her, or seemed startled when he caught her staring...much like she was at this moment.

"Hey hot stuff," A young guy working a game where you threw knives at a very chewed up dartboard called out. He was attractive—for a guy—with overly long dark brown hair and eyes just as dark. "Blondie, come here."

Jo froze and looked at him, then to Dean. Her cheeks flushed as she hesitantly moved toward him. "Me?"

"Yeah, you." He smiled at her, eyeing her up like she was a cake and he was a fat lady at a weight watcher's convention.

Dean gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. _Nobody_ should look a young woman like that. _Especially_, if that young lady was Jo.

"I'll let you try this game for free."

She twisted a strand of blonde hair around her finger as she smiled back at him. "What do I get out of it?"

"Any prize you want." He winked at her.

Dean felt his anger level rise from orange to red. He was almost surprised to see that he wasn't blowing steam out of his ears like a cheesy, old cartoon.

"Sure." Jo said. Her tone implied that she knew where this conversation was headed.

The guy stepped out of his booth, reaching into his dingy green apron's front pocket and pulled out three knives. He twirled them expertly though his fingers. "Aim for the center of the bulls-eye."

Jo held the knife in her fingers, "Like this?"

"No," He moved behind her, pulling her into his hips so she was pressed against him in all of the wrong places. "Like this." He whispered in her ear as he adjusted the knife in her hand.

Dean was going to explode. How _dare_ that piece of shit touch her like that. He was opening his mouth to say something about it, but Ash beat him to it.

"_That's_ my sister!" As stepped between the two of them. He grabbed Jo's arm, "C'mon, Jo."

Hey mean," The Carny said, grabbing Ash's arm and yanking him off his sister. "We weren't doing anything wrong!"

"Like bein' all over my sister is okay?!"

"You wanna go, man?" It was a threat and a challenge rolled into one. And Ash never backed away from a challenge.

Ash's eyes flicked to Dean.

Dean was glad Sam and Ruby had decided to go through the Tunnel of Love (however disgusting that may have been) so he wouldn't try to stop him. Dean cracked his neck, then nodded once. This worthless pile of shit was going down.

Ash raised his fists. "Let's go man!"

Without a warning, the Carny had struck, hitting Ash right in the nose.

Ash's mullet-topped head snapped back, but he didn't stumble as blood streamed down his nose and onto his Lynard Skynard t-shirt. He swayed a little bit, but stayed on his feet. He threw a sloppy punch and got socked in the head again. This time, he wasn't going to stay in the fight. He collapsed, his eyes rolling back into his head.

"Ash!" Jo cried plopping into the dirt next to her brother.

Dean took that as his cue to step in. He knew he was tough. So, when he swung at the Carny and knocked out one of his front teeth, he felt like he had the upper hand.

"_Dean_?!" Jo shouted in disbelief and anger.

In just the one split-second it took for him to glance at her, the Carny took a swing at Dean's eye that made him see stars. "_Son of a bitch_!" He cursed.

The last thing he remembered seeing was another fist sailing toward his face in what seemed to be slow-motion.

* * *

"Dean."

The voice was forein, but somewhat familiar. He couldn't place its owner.

Dean felt like he was floating in a black, empty space. It wasn't scary or unsettling. It was just...different. It was like it was somebodies house he had been in a thousand times, but they had changed the living room paint or the kitchen tile. Familiar, but different. He knew he couldn't be hurt here, in this endless black, mind-numbing place. It made him feel comfortable.

"Dean?"

Dean mentally rolled his eyes. He didn't want to wake up. When would he ever get to float in this hazy, black, peaceful place again?

"_Dean_!"

The deep gravelly voice was more forceful this time, jolting Dean out of his black haven of bliss.

"Wha'?" He asked, using all of his strength to force his eyes to open. He had never felt like his eyes had weighed a thousand tons before.

Castiel was kneeling over top of him. An expression on his face that reminded him of a puppy. A sort of unique innocence about him.

"Cas?" Dean asked. His head throbbing. He gritted his teeth—this time in pain—as he forced himself to sit up, trying not to puke. "Where are Jo and Ash?" He asked, his gaze flickering to the spot where Ash had lain before he got knocked out.

"Jo was angry, so she took Ash and left."

Dean's gaze moved to the Carny's stand, where the cocky piece of shit was grinning at him smugly. "Did I win?"

Cas shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Damnit!"

"If it makes you feel any better," Cas said slowly, like he wasn't sure he should say it, "He said he was an XMA fighter...although, I am unfamiliar with the term."

Dean's eyes widened. "An _ex-MMA fighter_?!"

"Yeah, that."

Rubbing his throbbing temples, Dean said, "Alright, screw that guy. We're going to get the hell out of here." He managed to lumber to his feet, but once he was standing, he was overcome by dizziness.

Cas moved to support Dean, putting Dean's arm around his shoulders, and wrapping his arm around Dean's back. "Let's take you to your trailer."

As Dean limped back toward the parking area for the rodeo contestants' trailers he couldn't help but be angry. He had just had his ass handed to him on a silver platter.

"Which one is yours?" Cas asked him.

"The tent. But, I should probably clean up before I go back there." He searched for the nearest water spigot.

"You can clean up at mine." Cas offered. "I have one-hundred gallons of water strapped to the top of my trailer."

"Thanks."

The walk across the lot was slow and a little painful, but they made it to Castiel's massive horse trailer without a problem.

Jo and Ellen's trailer was nice. A hell of a lot nicer than Bobby's tent. But, Cas's was ten times nicer than theirs. It had a carpeted floor, two leather couches, a gas fireplace, a queen-sized bed over the gooseneck, an over, stove, fridge, sink, microwave, and a slide-out for the kitchen table, where a laptop was humming quietly.

"Bathroom is right through there."

Dean moved to the back of the living quarters, where the bathroom was. He let out a low whistle at the glass shower, shiny wood floor, and mirror on the wall above the sink.

Upon further inspection in the mirror, he came to the conclusion that his cut and bruises on his face weren't going to go unnoticed by Bobby. His eye was already a nasty shade of purple, the split in his lip was still oozing blood, and the scratch across his left cheek wasn't subtle either.

After shutting of the water and drying his face on a hand towel, Dean stepped out of the bathroom. "Thanks, man."

Cas looked up from his computer and nodded.

"I'm gonna head back to the tent."

"Will you be able to make it on your own?"

Dean nodded.

When he arrived back at the tent Bobby grabbed Dean's chin and inspected his battle wounds. "What happened?"

"From the bull today." Dean blurted before remembering that he had had a clean ride. He hoped Bobby didn't call him out on his lie.

Bobby had a look in his eye that told Dean he didn't believe a word of the crap Dean had just fed him, that he knew about the lie but wasn't going to ask any further questions. Dropping Dean's chin, he let the lie go. "Alright."


	5. 5-1-5-0

Dean was up early the next morning, Bobby was sleeping soundly in the far corner of the tent and Sam was nowhere to be found. The morning air was cold and it caused goosebumps to raise on his skin. He could see his breath come out of his mouth and nose in a light fog as he dressed himself in new western attire. A red western shirt, tucked into yesterday's jeans, fastened with his belt that had his KHSRA champion belt buckle, he pulled on his boots and his NHSRA National Qualifier's leather jacket on.

He needed coffee.

He started making his way to the concession stand, which was stationed near the bleachers by the arena to draw in customers. He was thankful that the owners of the booth had opened early for the rodeo contestants and their families.

Dean ordered his coffee, and while he waited for them to pour it into a Styrofoam cup he looked around at the bustle and melee of people and horses already this early in the morning. People were warming their horses up in the arena, allowing their equine friends to stretch their legs after a long night of standing at the trailer. While others were sitting in the far bleachers, listening to a Sunday Sermon giving cowboy church.

"Thank you." Dean said out of habit as the lady handed him his steaming cup of coffee. He made sure to stir in enough cream and sugar before he started walking. He wasn't entirely sure where he was headed, but he figured he'd find something to do.

The hair on the back of his neck rose as he felt someone's gaze on him. Dean stopped, his green eyes sweeping the general area, looking for whoever would have been staring at him. He stopped searching when his eye's met Castiel's.

Castiel was sitting in the bleachers at cowboy church, dressed in his western attire. Brown hat, black shirt, jeans, boots, and on the top a long, tan trench coat to ward off the chill. He was looking at Dean with his head tilted slightly, like Dean was interesting to him.

Dean nodded his head slightly at him, to acknowledge him, and decided to go behind the bucking chutes to see if Ash was up there or not. As he walked at a steady pace, his spurs announcing his presence with each step Dean took, a voice called out, "Dean!"

Dean stopped and turned, "What Sam?"

"What the hell happened to you last night?" His younger brother demanded as he walked toward him. The reins of his horse clenched in his hand as he approached.

"What are you talking about?"

"Last night you wandered of with Ash, Jo, and Castiel while Ruby and I went on—"

"The Tunnel of _Love_." Dean said grinning at his brother, in an attempt to make him forget what he was saying.

"That's not the point." Sam said, giving Dean a look that showed him that he wasn't in the mood for his bullshit. "Anyway, when I got back to the tent you looked like you were trampled by a freaking rhino, Dean."

"It wasn't a rhino."

"What the hell happened?"

"Don't worry about it, Sammy." Dean turned away from his younger brother to avoid the conversation.

"Dean!" Sam said, lunging forward and grabbing Dean by the shoulder so he had to look at him again. "Just tell me what happened."

"Jo was getting herself into a mess and Ash and I got her out of it. That's it. Nothing else happened."

"A mess with what? A blender on a rampage?"

"He was an ex-MMA fighter."

"Dean!" Sam groaned throwing his head back. "Just...stay out of trouble today. If anybody asks about your face just say tripped or something."

Fighting was strictly against the rules. If you were caught fighting or something similar, they'd pull your back number and you'd be ejected from the NHSRA. Which, would ruin your chance to go to nationals if you were a senior.

Dean nodded and dismissed his younger with a wave. "I've got it, Sam. Thanks." He said before stalking off.

Jo was trying to get her horse to stand by the alley long enough for her to get a hold of the American flag so she could tuck it into her boot, but her mare was having a psychotic meltdown again.

"Jo, do you need help?" Dean asked, walking toward her, draining the rest of his coffee.

"No Dean." She said shooting him a sour look before nearly being thrown from her horse. "I think I've got it covered. You've helped out enough."

He stopped like she had slapped him. He raised a brow at her. "Oh yeah? I was just watching out for you!"

"Chick, stop!" Jo snarled, spinning her horse in a circle to get her to stop moving. "Now whoa!" She shook her blonde hair out of her eyes. "If I had wanted you to babysit me I would have put a diaper on."

Jo's mare reared up on its hind legs.

Jo let out a growl of frustration.

"Perhaps I could be of assistance?" A gravelly voice said, coming up from behind them.

Dean and Jo stopped their arguing when Castiel showed up, looking at the pair of them evenly.

"How?" Jo asked, eyeing Castiel curiously.

"Do you mind?" He asked, stepping up and placing a hand on the reins.

Jo swung her leg over and stepped off her mare. "Don't think we're done talking about this." She hissed as Cas swung himself easily into the saddle.

"Please," Dean said quietly, his eyes not leaving Castiel on the horse. "I've already been lectured by mom number one today, I don't really think I need to hear it from mother number two."

The stirrups on Jo's barrel saddle were ridiculously short on Castiel, and he looked like a Jockey, but he asked the horse to ride forward anyway. And, _of course_, the horse gave him a fit about it. Backing up, and throwing her head.

"My mom talked to you?!" Jo demanded.

"No, Sam did."

"Well, you had no right to intervene the way you did."

"What about Ash?" Dean hissed, watching Castiel slowly get the mare to walk up the alley entrance. "He started it."

"You helped."

"I was just his backup!"

"He got his ass kicked!"

"So did I!"

Jo crossed her arms and gritted her teeth at him.

"You are pulling back on your reins and asking her to go forward. You're confusing her, but it is also a very unpleasant experience for her." Castiel said, riding the mare through a few more times, the reins so loose that it looked like he wasn't even holding onto them.

"Shut up." Jo hissed at him. Shooting him daggers with her eyes, but her look of viciousness faded away and she gave him a small smile. The sign that Dean was forgiven.

"When you go to ride, sit deep in your saddle, and make sure your reins are loose. Ask her to go. If she doesn't go, turn a small circle and try again and again. She will go eventually." Castiel said, stopping and patting the mare's neck before he stepped out of the saddle with ease.

"Thanks." Jo said smiling at him gratefully before climbing in the saddle herself and doing it a few times. "Cas, you're a miracle worker!"

Cas stood with his hands buried in the pockets of his trench coat. "I have been told that I have a knack for reading animals—horses in particular. It is a trait I have inherited from my father."

"Thank you so much!" Jo said stroking her mare's neck. "I have to go, but I appreciate it."

Jo trotted off, leaving Dean and Cas standing next to one another. "How are you feeling this morning?" Castiel asked, looking up at Dean's bruised face with his incredibly blue eyes.

"Not bad." Dean said. Dean buried his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, and suddenly an idea popped into his head. He wasn't sure if it was a bad idea or a good idea, but he decided that it was worth a shot. "You live in Gumble, right?"

"Yes." Castiel said, looking at him, tilting his head again.

"We should hang out sometime."

Castiel slowly processed what Dean was saying, and a slow grin stretched across his features. "If you want to. Would you like my cell phone number?"

"Sure."

The pair of them exchanged digits, vowing to text one another and keep in touch. Then, they would decide when they would hang out.

Dean had the feeling that Castiel didn't have a lot of friends because he was cyber-schooled. He felt good about becoming Cas's friend. He considered it his good deed for the year.


	6. Chasin' the Wind, Racin' the Sun

Dean was up to his elbows in oil and grease. It stained his t-shirt and his holey jeans as he fiddled with the carburetor in his 1967 Chevy Impala. He wasn't doing anything major to it—his baby—just a regular tune-up.

If he wasn't screwing himself onto the back of a bucking machine, he could always be found with his car. It had been his dad's before he had died. It was one of the only things that made him feel close to his dad.

Something smacked his ass so hard it stung through his jeans. Startled, Dean jumped, hitting his head off of the open hood above his head. "Son of a bitch!" He shouted, rubbing his head. "What the hell, Sammy?"

Sam grinned at him. "You do that _every single_ time! It's hilarious!" Sam chuckled, nearly laughing so hard tears were leaking out of his eyes.

"It makes _you_ look like a dick."

"Whatever," Sam said, rolling his eyes.

Dean produced a grease-splotched from the side mirror, wiping his hands on it. "I was done anyway, bitch." He muttered towards his little brother.

"Jerk."

After he had closed the hood of his precious car, Dean headed across the scrapyard toward the house. The red Kansas dirt curled around his battered and virtually trashed work-boots with every step he took. The air was thick with the scent of an oncoming storm. Rojo, Sam's horse, was grazing on the far side of the scrapyard, at his side, was his goat companion.

Dean grinned to himself as he stepped into the house, he was able to smell the cherry pie Bobby was baking from the front porch. As he crossed the threshold into the kitchen his mouth started to water. "You made pie?" Dean asked Bobby.

"It was Karen's recipe." Bobby said, sitting at the table, his head craned over a thick, leather-bound book. The book was so old the pages were yellow and looked like they were in danger of crumpling under the lightest touch. The ink of the pages were faded to an almost dark blue color, the binding nearly falling apart.

Karen was—or had been, anyway—Bobby's wife. She had died long before Dean and Sam were born. Bobby still used her recipes for cooking, and on occasion, baking. Dean reasoned that they made him feel close to her. Kind of like working on the Impala made Dean feel close to his father.

Dean cut himself a generous slice of pie and sat adjacent to Bobby. He got a big forkful of the delicious nectar of the god's and bit in. "_HOT_!" He shouted around the dessert burning in his mouth. He jumped out of his seat, knocking it over backwards, and yanked the fridge open. He drank the milk straight out of the carton.

"It just came out of the oven, idjit!" Bobby scolded. "And you better finish off the rest of that milk. I'll be damned if you think I'm gonna drink out of it now."

"Sorry." Dean gasped, when he had finally come up for air. He took his place at the table again, waiting impatiently for the pie to cool. "So, what's the catch?"

"What are you talkin' about?"

"You only bake pie when you're trying to butter me up."

Bobby tilted his head at Dean. "And we always called you the stupid one." He set his reading glasses down and sat back in his creaking chair. "Sam got a letter from a school out in Texas. They want to see him ride."

"Lemme guess, you want me to take care of the place while you're gone."

"Well, yeah. I ain't gonna let Rufus do it again. Not after the last time."

Dean looked of his shoulder to the living room, where a red-painted star inside a circle, surrounded by strange symbols now took residence on the ceiling. Rufus had painted it there when he house-sat claiming that it kept the "demons" out. Bobby had been far from thrilled. Finally, Dean said, "Of course I will. When is it?"

"We leave in two weeks."

"Will you be back for the next rodeo?"

"That's the plan. But, we might end up driving straight from Texas to the rodeo. If we aren't back in time you're going to need to drive the Impala there. Got it?"

Dean nodded, setting to work devouring his pie.

After he had polished off his pie, Dean found himself laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling and watching the flies buzz in and out the hole in the screen. He didn't have anything to do. He had already finished his chores, worked on his car, he had just waxed it the other day, and now he was _so_ bored.

He scrolled through the contacts in his cellphone. Eventually, he settled on sending Jo a message.

_Hey :) –DW192_

He waited for a reply, when his phone buzzed he flipped it open as quickly as possible, his green eyes scanning the message from Jo.

**_Hey Dean, sorry I can't talk now. ~Country Cutie_**

Dean sighed and kept scrolling through his contacts once again. It was only five o'clock. Too damn early to be as bored as he already was. He saw Castiel's number and paused. Should he text him? He hardly knew the guy and didn't want to seem like a clingy friend. But, _anything_ was better than lying in bed watching the paint dry.

_Hey, it's Dean. Let's go do something. –DW192_

After a few minutes, Castiel had replied.

**I cannot leave my house. You may come over if you wish. –Cas**

Dean grinned at the signature under Castiel's message. Apparently, he had taken a liking to his nickname. After Cas had sent Dean his address, Dean swiped his keys and roared out of the driveway, grinning as his baby purred like a kitten and Guns 'N Roses played over his cassette player.

It took Dean thirty-three minutes to get to Castiel's house. A sign that read "Heavenly Horse Ranch" stood over the drive. A white fence line both sides. Horses stood behind it, grazing. Dean assumed it was safe to say that the Novak family had money.

He parked his car between the white house and the white barn.

Castiel stood halfway between the Impala and the barn. "Hello, Dean."

"Hey, Cas." Dean said, standing in front of him. "You've got a nice place, here."

"Thank you. I'm just starting my evening chores. Would you like to wait for me to finish in the barn?"

"Sure." He followed Castiel to the barn, unable to help but gawk at everything around him.

The inside of the barn was just as immaculate as the rest of the property. Not a single piece of hay was out of place. It didn't even smell like a barn!

"I was in the process of feeding." Cas explained as he ducked into a small room off to the side of the main aisle. Various buckets sat with feed in them, different names of horses were scrawled across them in Sharpie. Cas dumped various powders, liquids, and feeds in their respective buckets. He then grabbed an armful of buckets and headed back into the main part of the barn, where the stalls stood.

Feeling obligated to help, Dean picked up the remainder of the buckets. "Where do these go?"

"It would be wise of you to stand back." Castiel warned before opening the giant sliding door that lead to the pasture. He then grabbed Dean's arm and drug him down the aisle, toward the tack room.

Immediately after, his grey mare came trotting through the door, followed by a dozen other horses. The grey looked particularly cranky as she gave the big brown horse behind her a particularly nasty look.

"_Artemis_." Castiel growled, his tone full of warning. He reminded Dean of a mother sending a warning to her child.

The big grew slowed to a walk then looked at Cas with her ears forward, recognizing the sound of his voice. At that moment she didn't resemble the crabby mare she had just been a moment ago. She looked at him with recognition, the way a dog perks its ears at its owner. Then, she turned and went into the stall that had her name engraved on a black plaque.

Dean's eyes bugged out of their sockets as each horse moved into its appropriate stall. "They just…do that?"

"Yes." Castiel replied as he walked down the aisle, latching each stall door as he went. When he was done he stood at the end of the concrete aisle, hands on his hips, grinning to himself proudly.

It was obvious to see that the horses were something he was proud of.

"Are all of these horses yours?" Dean asked him from the other end of the barn.

"No. People pay me to take care of their horses for them. And, some of them I train and then sell."

"_You_ train? Don't you mean your dad?"

"My dad doesn't live here anymore."

"Mom?"

"Dead."

Dean blinked at him for a minute, unsure of what to say. Before he had the chance to apologize, Cas said, "Let's go for a ride."

"Cas, I don't ride horses." Dean told him. "I ride bulls. I only have to stay on those things for five seconds."

"Do you trust me, Dean?" Cas asked, moving toward him, staring unwaveringly into Dean's eyes.

"Uh…I suppose so."

Castiel grinned again, before bustling off to the tack room. He came out carrying a saddle, talking excitedly, which was the first time Dean had heard any sort of expression in the blue-eyed boy's voice. "I'll put you on a calm horse, I promise. Ante is a total gentleman."

Dean followed Cas, where he opened the stall of a buckskin gelding. He watched as Castiel saddled the horse, with great practice and skill. Something, that he had spent many years of his life doing.

Ante turned his head and nuzzled Dean's face.

Dean grinned and stroked the horse's nose. "I think I can give it a shot."


	7. Tonight I Wanna Cry

"Cas, what is he doing?" Dean demanded as _Ante_ went faster to catch up to Castiel on Artemis. Dean was bouncing in the saddle, worried that he was going to end up falling off. "Cas! Make him stop!"

"He is just catching up, Dean." Castiel said, not worried about Dean on the buckskin horse at all. He sat totally at ease in the saddle, his reins loose, and his seat sure and deep. "_Ante_ will not do anything to hurt you."

"What's so funny?" Dean demanded once he was completely caught up to Castiel. His hands were shaking and he thought he was going to die.

"You are confident when it comes to getting on a bull that will try to kill you, but when you're sitting on a horse that is behaving perfectly, you panic."

Dean mad a mocking face toward Castiel. "I only have to sit on a bull for eight seconds."

Cas stopped his mare, motioning for Dean to ride up beside him. "_Ante_ is hardly a horse, he's more of a babysitter."

"Well, this is the first babysitter I've ever had that has four legs and a tail."

Castiel gave him a slight grin, then looked out in front of him, where Heavenly Horse Ranch lay out before them in a small valley that was surrounded by the rolling bluffs, which were fairly rare to see in Kansas. "I enjoy riding here when I have time or need a place to think."

Dean took in the scene below him, the ranch looked so peaceful and quiet. It almost seemed like it was in its own little world, where nothing bad could happen. "It's a gorgeous view." He agreed, shifting a little in the roping saddle he was sitting in.

Castiel reached around himself and scratched at the middle of his back. For a moment his smile faltered, but he saw Dean staring at him and dropped his arm to his side. "My father used to bring me here when I was little."

"What happened to him?" Dean asked. "You said he wasn't dead."

Cas shifted in his saddle, taking his time. His blue eyes slid away, gazing into the distance. "He is…in an asylum. And he will be for the rest of his life."

Dean felt sympathy for his newfound friend once again. He knew how it felt to lose somebody close to you—especially, your parents. "My dad is dead." He wasn't sure if that was the appropriate thing to say, but he knew from experience that there was nothing acceptable to say to somebody who had lost somebody they loved.

"I am sorry for your loss." Cas said, he scratched his back again, then narrowed his eyes at something coming down the driveway.

A car zoomed down the drive in a cloud of dust.

"I thought I told him to slow down." Cas grumbled before turning his mare around. He didn't look thrilled. "We must ride back to the barn. Quickly." He urged his mare into a canter.

Underneath him, _Ante_ pranced, wanting to run faster to catch up with his stable-mate. "Whoa, there." Dean cooed to the horse, trying to get him to settle down. It didn't work, though the buckskin quarter horse didn't bolt, he carried on and pranced. Finally, with a roll of his green eyes, Dean loosened the slack in his reins and allowed the horse to gallop after his friend.

Dean gripped the leather saddle tight with his legs, grasping the horn with his free hand as he handled the reins rather sloppily, but after about thirty terrifying seconds, _Ante_ had caught up to Artemis and was keeping a steady pace.

Castiel glanced over his shoulder at Dean and said, "Your reins are a mess, loosen up. You're yanking his face off. And, keep your heels down and your toes out."

Dean stared at him, perplexed that Cas was able to give him instructions while maintaining a fast-paced canter across the field.

"We need to get you some lessons under your belt if you're going to keep riding."

They broke down to a trot down the driveway—which was even worse than a gallop in Dean's opinion. When _Ante_ trotted, Dean felt himself bouncing all over. He could practically hear Cas chastising him already.

Cas dismounted his horse and Dean followed suit. He pulled the barn door open and led his horse inside, putting her in the proper stall. "Balthazar?" He called, his fists clenched loosely as they hung at his sides. Something looked dangerous about Castiel as he moved almost silently through the barn. "Balthazar, come out."

"Not Balthazar." A girl said, coming out of a bay horse's stall. "I'm just driving his car until mine gets fixed."

"Anna," Cas said smiling at her and wrapping her up in a hug. "You're back from school! I have not seen you in a long time."

Anna smiled at him, her eyes drifting to Dean. "Who's your friend, Cas?"

"This is Dean Winchester.

Anna looked Dean up and down as he awkwardly held his hand out so she could shake it. Finally, she shook his hand. "Castiel and I rodeo together."

"You finally decided to give it a go, huh?" Anna asked Cas, her tan hunt seat saddle on her hip. "For a long time, I thought you were just blowing smoke."

"He's pretty good at it." Dean said, glancing at Cas. "He was the weekend champion a few weeks ago."

"I'm not surprised. He spends all day everyday riding horses."

Dean could believe it. The way Cas sat totally at ease in the saddle was proof of the time he put in the saddle each week.

"What events do you do?"

"I bull ride."

Anna raised a brow, giving Dean an impressed look. "You're braver than I am. I do eventing." She said, turning and opening the stall door again as she began to tack up her horse. "Cas is a great instructor."

"You ride English?" Dean asked, giving Castiel a look.

Cas blushed running a hand through his dark hair. "My breeches are temporarily hung up. I've exchanged them for Wranglers, recently."

Dean looked at Cas, picturing his nice, athletic legs in tight tan breeches instead of somewhat baggy jeans. He imagined that the blue-eyed boy would look great in them. Dean scowled at himself and shook his head to clear his thoughts.

Where the hell had that mental image come from?

"You okay, Dean?" Anna asked while Castiel had begun untacking Artemis and _Ante_. "You look like you're going to puke _and_ make out with somebody. As far as I know, those two things don't mesh very well."

"What?" Dean asked cramming his hands in his jean pockets. "No! I'm totally fine." Dean said, lying through his teeth. He had never really thought about another guy like that and Anna's comment had made him feel even weirder.

Anna tossed her reddish-brown hair over her shoulder, and turned to put her horse's bridle on. Her black tank top revealed the edge of a black-shaded wing tattoo.

_That_, Dean thought, _is hot. Not the mental image of Castiel in breeches._ "Nice tattoo." He said, grinning at her.

"You like that? I've always liked angels, so I decided to get a pair of wings on my back after I went to college."

Dean was about to say that he and his brother had matching tattoos over their hearts, but the sound of something being dropped on the floor, causing him to turn around in time to see Castiel bolt out of the barn.

"Oh no." Anna said, closing her stall door behind her. "Castiel!" She shouted, running behind him in her knee-high, shiny, black riding boots. Hardly

Dean wondered what had happened, and followed the pair out of the barn. He froze in his tracks when he saw Castiel waving his hands frantically. He looked like he was holding back tears, he frantically scratched at his back.

Anna reached up, hugging Cas, but he shrugged off her hug, turned, and stormed to the house, slamming the white front door behind him.

"What was that about?" Dean asked Anna as she slowly walked back toward the barn.

"Cas is my cousin, and he's very…sensitive. Ever since his father—you know, maybe you can talk to him."

"Me?" Dean asked. "He hardly knows me."

"Cas has always found it easier to open up to those who don't know him, instead of those who do."

Dean told her he'd give it a shot. He knocked on the door and when there was no answer, he pushed it open, revealing a spotless foyer, stairs ahead of him, and a spotless living room to the right. "Cas?" He called.

No answer.

Dean couldn't explain how weird it felt to him that he was just randomly walking into a stranger's house uninvited. No matter how much of a pompous ass he could be, Dean was still a gentleman and had issues walking into somebody's house without consent.

Eventually, he decided that it was best to walk up the stairs and find Castiel himself. The entire house gave him chills. It was a huge house and it seemed so…_empty_. Dean heard water running in the bathroom, and he knocked on the door. "Castiel?"

Once again, no answer.

Dean pushed on the door, and it swung open.

Castiel was standing at the sink, gripping the porcelain, his knuckles were white as he breathed heavily. He looked at Dean in the mirror, his blue eyes wide with the after-effects of his meltdown. Water dripped down his stubbly chin and across his perfect lips.

"You okay, bud?"

Castiel looked at him, nodding slowly. "Sorry. You should not have had to witness that."

"Hey, it's okay." Dean said, reaching over and putting an arm around the boy's shoulders. "We all have bad days. I don't know what happened, but I'm always here if you need somebody to talk to. I know I need to talk to somebody every once in a while, too."

Cas clenched his fists at his sides, straining to maintain his composure.

Dean knew that look. He had seen that look on his face while he gazed into the mirror far too many times. He outstretched his arms and hugged Cas tight, "Come here." He said, wrapping his arms around the boy tightly. "Cry it out." He urged.

Cas buried his face in Dean's shoulder, but didn't cry. He gripped Dean's t-shirt tightly in his clenched fists.

"Come on, just let it out."

After a few moments of tense silence, Cas started to shudder as he let himself cry into Dean's t-shirt.

Automatically, Dean's hands started softly stroking Castiel's hair while he soaked his t-shirt, while he hugged him with the other arm. It reminded him how Sammy used to cry when he thought about the fact that he never knew mom and dad. He'd do to Sammy what he was doing to Cas now. Hug him, and let him cry it out.

After what seemed to be forever, Castiel straightened up and stepped away from Dean. He wiped his hand across his bloodshot blue eyes, which looked more blue than usual. "Dean, I…" He stopped, not sure of what to say.

"It's okay." Dean assured him. "I understand. I don't think any less of you, man."

Cas sniffled one last time, and smiled up at Dean a little sadly. "Thank you."


	8. That Damned Ol' Rodeo

It had been day number three of Bobby and Sam's trip to Texas. They were going to be gone for roughly a week and a half, possibly two depending on the weather. Dean thought that living in the house alone was great, not because he could throw parties, but because he could lay on the couch all day and eat nothing but pizza and nobody would judge him for it.

Currently, Dean was driving down the road, a box of pizza in the passenger seat in his car fresh from the local pizza joint. About three miles outside of town a sign caught his attention. Dean slammed on the brakes of his car and threw it into reverse. He read the sign, grinning to himself, and then typed in a number to his cellphone.

"Hello?" A woman on the other end of the line asked.

"Hi, uh, is this where I call in to sign up for Bull Mania?" Dean asked, glancing in his mirror as he drove down the road.

"Yes, what is your name?"

"Dean Winchester."

"Okay Dean, you must be eighteen to enter."

Dean frowned, he wasn't eighteen. He wouldn't be eighteen until February. "Yeah, I'm eighteen."

"Okay, when you get here on Friday night you'll come up to the registration booth, pay your entry fees, fill out some paperwork, and then you'll ride that night! Good luck and hope to see you there!"

Dean knew that they weren't going to check his I.D. when he registered for the rodeo. But, if somebody said Dean was younger than eighteen, they'd have to check it then. He already had a fake I.D., courtesy of Ash, hopefully, it was believable enough.

Thinking of rodeo, made him think of Castiel, and thinking of Cas caused Dean to not want to go back home to that empty house. He wanted somebody to hang out with, somebody he could talk to. As Dean neared his driveway, he didn't slow down. He zoomed right past it, heading to Castiel's house, hoping that the blue-eyed boy would be able to hang out with him.

Dean turned up the radio and stepped on the gas, his baby roaring like a tiger the entire way. It took him a half an hour to get to Cas's house. He was careful to slow down when he pulled down the driveway. He put the car and park and slammed the door behind him.

"Cas?" He called, knocking on the door.

"Come in." Castiel's deep, gruff voice called from inside the door.

Dean pushed open the door, and followed the sound of Cas's humming from the dining room. When he got there, Castiel's head was bent over textbooks as he typed into the computer at his fingers. "I brought some lunch." Dean said setting the pizza box on the table.

Castiel looked up from his books, "I, uh, did not know that you would be coming today. I…am writing an essay." He rose out of his seat and starting stacking textbooks neatly in one corner of the table and pushed his laptop out of the way. Then, the shorter boy stood there awkwardly in front of Dean. He clenched and unclenched his fists, his blue eyes not meeting his gaze.

Dean stared at him for a few minutes in an awkward silence, when he realized why Cas was acting strange. The last time they'd hung out Cas had had a total meltdown and cried into Dean's shirt. Obviously, Castiel was still showing some regret. "Hey," Dean said moving close to him. "You're still upset about the other day?"

For the first time, Castiel's inexplicably blue eyes locked on his. "You should not have had to witness that. I should have my emotions and memories under control."

"Cas, don't be like that." Dean said. "Things happen, I know sometimes I just need to cry too. I already told you that I don't think of you any differently, and I meant it."

A small smile lit up Castiel's features. "I value our friendship, Dean." Then, he turned and went to his kitchen, he dug through a white cupboard and pulled out two plates. "Here, would you like some soda?"

"Sure." Dean called in.

The sterile nature of Cas's house bothered Dean a little bit, it looked like nobody even lived there. Everything was perfectly clean, the blue and white laminated kitchen floor shone, just like the appliances, the entire house smelled like lemon pine-sol. Everything was so neat and spotless it made Dean want to just run through the house with muddy boots, spill juice and soda, and just make a mess. To make it look like somebody lived there.

They sat across from each other, eating in silence. Finally, Dean said, "I signed up for Bull Mania."

Cas looked up from his plate, his blue eyes boring into Dean's. "I thought you had to be eighteen for it."

"I am." Dean said grinning at him.

"You are?"

"Not really, but for this I am."

He looked at Dean, his head tilted slightly to the side, his lips parted just a fraction. His blue eyes almost took the breath out of Dean's lungs as he gazed at him with that curious look. "I don't understand."

"I'm lying about my age so I can compete."

"Do you think that is wise?" Cas asked around a mouthful of crust.

Dean shrugged. "What's the worst thing that could happen? Bobby and Sam are out of town, so they aren't going to stop me." He chewed his pizza for a minute, "You wanna go with me?"

Cas looked up at Dean, his lips slightly parted. "You really want me to?"

"Hell yeah, you're a friend, Cas. And you can keep me company behind the chutes. We'll have fun." He assured.

"I'll see if Anna can take care of chores for the evening. When is it?"

"This Friday."

Cas looked up at him, his eyes lighting up.

* * *

"You look like you're going to throw up." Dean commented as he strapped his chaps onto his legs as the crowd screamed and cheered behind him as the cowboy who had just left the chute went in a whirlwind of dust in the arena. "Lighten up, it'll be fun." Dean said nudging Cas.

Cas looked at him, his blue eyes terror-struck. "Dean, I don't think this is a good idea."

"Why not?" He bounced from foot-to-foot, revving himself up to strap himself onto his bull's back.

"This stock is really rough."

"That's why it's called roughstock, Cas."

His face was pale as he looked at Dean with big eyes, "I mean that they're more brutal than usual."

Dean grinned at him, although his smile wanted to falter. He wouldn't let that happen. He needed to keep his confidence up if he was going to have a successful ride. He needed to maintain his cocky attitude. "I'm not too worried about it, Cas." Dean said, climbing up onto the rack behind the chute so he could start strapping down his rigging.

Dean's fingers skillfully strapped the rigging onto the grey bull with black around the eyes—it reminded him of the KISS band members, but he kept that thought to himself. He made sure everything was down good and tight, and straightened up again, wincing as a bull rider got slammed into the chutes.

"Winchester?" A gruff guy called.

"Yeah?" Dean called, looking at him.

"You're in two."

Dean nodded and hovered over his bull in the chute.

"Are you going to put your helmet on?" Cas asked, holding the black headgear in his hands for Dean to take.

"Nah, Cas." Dean said, cramming his hat further down on his head. "This is the big leagues, they don't wear helmets here."

Castiel looked uneasy again, but he remained silent.

Dean sat down on his bull, trying to wrap his hand up.

The bull lurched beneath him, rearing up in the chute, practically trying to climb the walls.

"You have to sit and then nod, son." A guy with a fumanchoo mustache said. "He ain't gonna sit there while you get all nice and cozy. Widow Maker likes to get the job done."

Dean swallowed, but nodded. He hovered over the bull once more, tying his hand extra tight in the hopes that he would get a full ride and make it into the second day. Then, he sat down hard on the bull, threw his freehand in the air and gave a hard nod.

It all happened so fast, but in slow motion at the same time.

The entire world was a blur as Widow Maker burst from the chute, no sound was heard as Widow Maker gave him the ride of his life.

Dean centered himself as the bull spun to the right, but when it started to go to the left, it threw him off balance. He knew he was falling off before he'd even left the bull's back. He was bracing for the impact, but instead of meeting the ground, his right arm was being jerked from socket.

Dean tried to stay on his feet as Widow Maker yanked him around by his hand. His feet left the ground a few times, his arm screaming in agony. It was too late to stop himself when he saw the grey-painted chute gate coming at his face.

After that, things went even slower, and in spurts. It was as if the world was in a strobe light. In one flash, the bull was right over top of Dean, in the next he saw bright lights and the bull fighters running towards him, and the last thing he remembered was Castiel running towards him, stopping and kneeling over him, saying something he couldn't hear.


	9. Scars Are Tattoos with Better Stories

_**WARNING: In this chapter it mentions abuse!**_

_**XOXO,**_

_**Girlreadsalot**_

* * *

The first thing Dean noticed when he awoke, was how unbearably dry his mouth was. The second thing he noticed was how badly his back hurt. He opened his eyes, which seemed unbearably heavy. It took them a while to focus. "C-castiel?" He asked in confusion.

Castiel looked up from twiddling his thumbs in the chair next to Dean's bedside. He still had his dark tan cowboy hat on and his grey button-down western shirt. His blue eyes lit up as he heard Dean rasp his name. "Hello, Dean."

"What happened?"

Cas sat back, like he'd told the story a thousand times before. "You were bucked off the bull, Dean. You got hung up, then slammed headfirst into the chutes, then it kicked you in the head. You were sent here by ambulance. You have a concussion."

"I do?" Dean asked, trying to sit up, but he looked down and saw that his arms were still restrained, along with the rest of his body. "Why won't they take these off?"

Castiel sighed again, "They're waiting for you CT scans to come back. They're worried about damage to your neck and spine." He stopped looking at him, "You should have worn the helmet, Dean."

Dean grinned at him, laying back. The uncomfortable collar of the stretcher dug into the back of his neck. "I guess you're probably right, Cas. Anything else I need to know?"

"You kept calling for your brother…" He looked up at him, his blue eyes as accurate as any laser could be. He didn't seem like he should continue, "And you also confessed your undying love for me…repeatedly."

Dean chuckled, but when it caused his back to ache, he regretted it. "Yeah, you're really funny, Cas."

"I wasn't kidding."

They were silent, the only sound that could be heard was the clock ticking excruciatingly loud above his head. "I was really worried about you." Cas admitted.

Dean could vaguely remember Castiel being the first person by his side in the arena, his face a mask of anxiety and fear as he ran towards him. "_Dean! Dean, are you okay?!_"

"That could have snapped your neck. You dislocated your shoulder, sprained your wrist, cracked your head open, and—"

"Alright, Mr. Novak." The doctor said, coming into the room. He looked at his clipboard and stood by Dean's bedside. "You have a concussion, which will include headaches, memory loss, and possibly nausea. Your shoulder is popped back into place, but make sure to wrap it. Also, your wrist needs to have a brace on it, and your head as twenty-six staples in it, so be careful with your hat." He said blinking down at Dean.

"Novak?" Dean asked, confused.

"Aren't you Gabriel Novak?"

Dean's green eyes flickered to Cas, who nodded ever-so-slightly. "Yeah."

The doctor proceeded to tell him what medication to take, how often and when. Shortly after, he freed Dean from the back board and let him up. "Make sure he doesn't sleep for more than a few hours at a time." He instructed Cas.

Castiel nodded and stood up next to Dean. "Come on, Gabe." He said, gently putting a guiding hand on Dean's back. He guided Dean out into the parking lot, to where he'd parked Dean's precious car.

"Why did you tell them I was Gabriel Novak?" Dean demanded.

"Because," Castiel said, "Gabriel was my brother, he was eighteen. It would not have looked suspicious if a little brother met his older brother in the hospital. If you would have kept your true identity, they would have contacted your legal guardian…Bobby."

Dean realized that what Castiel had been doing was keeping him out of trouble. "Oh." He moved for the door.

"What are you doing?"

"Going home? I can drop you off it's on the way."

"Dean, you can't drive."

"What?! Why not?"

"You're pumped full of medications _and_ you have a concussion." Castiel moved forward, placing his hand gently on Dean's which was resting on the door handle.

Dean dropped his hand and hung his head, "What's this?" He asked, climbing into the passenger seat and picking up a rather pathetic looking object.

"That was your hat."

"Great." Dean groaned as he poked his finger through a hole in it. It had been smashed and torn beyond recognition. Dean tilted his seat back as Cas drove, eventually drifting back off to sleep.

It seemed he had only been sleeping for a few seconds when Cas shook his shoulder, "Wake up, Dean. We're here." He held a hand out, to assist his friend out of the car, kindness in his blue eyes.

Dean accepted the offer, and it wasn't until he was out of the car that he got to take a good look at his surroundings. The white picket fence, the gigantic white barn, the large white house…this wasn't Bobby's house in the middle of the scrapyard. "We're at your house." He observed, his brows pulled low over his eyes.

"Did you think I was going to let you stay home alone while you were injured?" Castiel asked, ducking under Dean's arm to help him into the house.

Dean groaned, sucking in air through his teeth. "Cas, bad arm." He grunted quickly.

Castiel ducked his head, his face blushing was visible in the single porch light. "My apologies." He switched sides.

Once they were inside, the cleanliness of Cas's house threw Dean off again. Everything was so sterile, empty. The only sounds in the house aside from their breathing was the hum of the appliances in the kitchen.

"Can I crash on the couch?"

Cas nodded, "You may find the queen-sized bed in the bedroom upstairs more comfortable."

Dean considered it for a moment, then took up the offer for the bed. He really didn't want to wake up more sore and stiff than he already was. He followed Cas upstairs, his body protesting with each step he took, gawking at the lack of décor.

There was nothing in the house that showed anybody but Castiel lived here. No pictures on the walls, no books or socks lying around, no dishes in the sink. The guest bedroom Cas offered him was just as bad. A queen-sized bed pushed against the far wall, neatly made, unslept in, no pictures, no clothes in the closet, dressers were bare and uncluttered, and the drawers undoubtedly empty as well.

When he turned around to ask Cas why there was no sign of human life in the house the look on his face stopped him cold.

Castiel was staring at the room, not seeing Dean, but seeing something else. His mouth was pressed into a hard line, his blue eyes were expressionless. His hands clenched loosely at his sides. His face was virtually unreadable, something that Dean had never seen before. Finally, he cleared his throat, "This is your room. I'll be back in a few hours to check on you." Then he turned and left, shutting the door behind him.

Dean gimped his way out of his boots and gingerly laid on the bed. He practically sighed as the mattress swallowed him up, enveloping him in a soft cocoon. He hadn't bothered to pull the covers down, he just passed out like that, in his jeans and everything.

It felt like moments later when Castiel was shaking him awake. "Dean, are you still alive?"

Dean opened an irritated eye. "Yes."

"I'm going to take a shower." Castiel said, "Then I have to go take care of chores."

Dean looked at the digital clock on the nightstand, "It's five o'clock in the morning. You're crazy!"

Castiel smiled and left the room, stretching his arms above his head. When he did so, the white t-shirt of his rode up, revealing something under his shirt.

Dean fell back on his bed again and fell asleep, but when he awoke, he wasn't sure what time it was. He climbed out of bed, in a desperate need to go to the bathroom. Groggy, and unawake, he opened the bathroom door, only to be stopped by Cas pulling on a t-shirt over his head, his back facing Dean.

"Cas?" He asked horrified. He was face-to-face with two angry purple scars that ran from between Castiel's shoulder blades, down to the small of his back, nearly to where his jeans were sitting. "Cas, what the hell are those?"

Castiel heard him, and spun around, his blue eyes wide and horrified. He made sure his t-shirt was coving him before saying, "Dean, what—what are you talking about?" He looked scared, anxious, and even through his drug-induced state, Dean knew Castiel was trying his best to hide it.

"These!" He exclaimed, reaching forward and pulling up the back of Castiel's shirt and pressing a hand to them.

Castiel recoiled under Dean's touch. "It was an accident." He whispered, he still looked horrorstruck.

Dean could feel Castiel's tension in his skin, like he was ready to bolt from fear. He dropped his hand and spun Castiel around to face him. "No accident looks like that."

"They leave scars all of the time."

"No," Dean whispered, his hand moving up to cup Cas's face. "Like this."

Castiel had getting that deer-in-the-headlights look Dean had seen once before; when he'd had a meltdown in the barn when Anna was here.

"Cas, I'm here." Dean said firmly. "You need to get this shit off of your chest, you need to tell me what happened. Come on."

Castiel closed his eyes, two tears running down his cheeks, his breathing was labored, like he was trying hard not to freak the hell out. "My dad," He choked.

"Your father did this to you?" Dean growled, his anger rising. He wanted to crush somebody, kill the sonofabitch who had hurt Cas, hurt him so damn bad he was this afraid. Castiel had told him that he was in an asylum.

"After my mother died, he slowly went crazy Dean. He—he…"

"C'mon, Cas." Dean urged, you can tell me.

"Did it, laughing, giggling. He pinned me down, calling me his little angel. The angel of Thursday. He did it slow…he knew it hurt. He _liked_ it." Then, Castiel buried his head in his hands, sobbing, his small shoulders shaking.

Dean wrapped his arms, ignoring the protests from his right arm and holding him close. "I'm so sorry, Cas." He cooed over, and over, and over again. "I'm so sorry." He couldn't understand how somebody could do that to their own son. Their own flesh and blood?

Finally, once Dean's back was aching, his head was pounding, and his arm was throbbing, Castiel wiped his eyes. His intense blue eyes looked even more vibrant against the red that surrounded them. "I've never told anyone before. Promise me you won't tell."

"I promise." He didn't move from his too-close position next to Castiel. God, he looked so hurt, so broken. Without thinking, just acting on pure instinct, doped up on pain-killers, Dean brought his lips down gently up Castiel's. He kissed him gently, a soft kiss, that held all of the words Dean wanted to say but couldn't.

When they pulled apart, Castiel looked up at him awestruck. "What was that?" He asked quietly.

"I'm sorry." Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I had no idea what came over me."

Castiel stared at him for a few minutes, finally, he cleared his throat. "Please, don't be sorry."

Before Dean knew what was happening, Castiel's mouth was upon his, kissing him with an intense, fevered passion. It startled him to the point, where it practically sucked the air right from his lungs. He couldn't stop himself—_didn't_ want to stop himself—everything felt so right. He never had chills like this before, his head had never spun this fast (whether it was from the drugs or the kiss it didn't really matter).

Just as quickly as the kiss had started, it ended, leaving both boys gasping for air.

"I'm not sorry anymore." Dean panted.


	10. Dust and Mud

_**Sorry this chapter is so short! I'm in college now and I suffered from writer's block. The next one will be better, I promise! Thank you all for the kind reviews! It really makes me so happy!**_

_**XOXO,**_

_**Girlreadalot**_

* * *

Dean sat on the top rail of the fence, watching the bareback bronc event. After they had kissed each other, he and Castiel had acted like nothing had ever happened. They went about their lives, not bringing it up again.

He was just so confused about this entire thing. He'd never done anything like that before, spontaneously kissing somebody. Let alone another guy. Dean took off his new hat, and pushed a hand through his light brown hair before putting it back on. He'd never even had provocative thoughts about another man before.

"Dean," a familiar voice said from behind him.

Dean craned around to see Sam sitting on his horse, grinning like a fool. "Hey!" He exclaimed, turning around and climbing down. "You guys made it just in time."

"Yeah, it was a long drive, but it was worth it." He studied Dean as he walked towards him. "Dude, are you limping?"

Dean back was still stiff from his fall at Bull Mania, it caused him to walk a little gingerly. "Yeah, I must have slept on it wrong or something. So, how was Texas?"

"Not much different from Kansas." Sam said with a grin. "The coach for the Sam Huston team gave me some pointers for throwing steers, which was really cool."

Dean was glad Sammy had had fun on his trip. He'd been having more fun than Dean had, laid up all week.

"Oh, I gotta go." Sam said, turning his horse away. "I'm third in the box."

Dean didn't feel like climbing up the fence again to watch Sammy ride. Instead, he leaned on the rail and watched. When Sam threw his steer in twelve seconds, Dean gave an impressed nod. That coach had really helped him, steer wrestling had never been Sam's strong event.

"Dean," A voice said from behind him.

Dean's heart thudded in his chest as he turned around. "Cas?"

"Are you ready to student direct for team roping?" His blue eyes met Dean's, then flickered to his dusty boots.

"Yeah."

"How does your back feel?"

"I'm almost one-hundred percent." Dean said with a grin. He tried to act like nothing had transpired between the two of them the last time they'd hung out. It wasn't because he hadn't liked what had happened, he was just…confused about the entire situation. His entire life, he'd like girls. Hot girls. Now, all of a sudden he couldn't stop thinking about Castiel.

They walked toward the middle of the arena. "Sorry that I have talked to you since we, uh, we stayed at your house." Dean said quietly.

"You have nothing to be sorry for." Castiel said, keeping his head down. He didn't look up at Dean, which made the oldest Winchester uncomfortable. "Are you riding bulls today?"

"Yeah." Dean said. He smiled lightly at the smaller boy. "Don't worry, I'll be wearing my helmet." The doctors had told Dean that he could bleed from the brain if he took another hit like that. They also recommended that he not ride bulls for three months. Well, that wasn't going to happen. Being a national champion wouldn't come from sitting on the sidelines while you waited for your injuries to heal.

"Hello, boys." Dick said looking at the two of them approaching.

"Hi, _Dick_." Dean said smiling up at him.

Dick's smug smirk slipped off his face before he thrust his clipboard at Dean. "These steers are particularly unhelpful today, so pay attention Winchester. Don't be fooling around." He walked past Castiel, pressing the walkie-talkie in his hands.

Dean rolled his eyes and moved to the stripping chute. He called out the number, and heard Castiel repeat it into the walkie. He tried to avoid looking at Castiel throughout the process, but he could feel the other boy's blue eyes boring into the back of his head.

They finished the work and Dean started walking away. He was about to climb back onto the bucking chutes when a hand grabbed his shoulder and turned him around.

"Dean, we need to talk." Castiel said, his face stern.

Dean sighed, jamming his hands into his pockets. "Okay?"

"I have to get Artemis ready for roping, will you walk with me?"

Dean nodded and followed him, hanging back a little bit. He walked to his trailer and stood back while he tacked up his mare. He watched as he fastened the saddle on with ease, buckling things where they needed to be buckled. "What's going on, Cas?"

Castiel finally turned to him, his blue eyes big as he stared at Dean. "I need to know that you don't want to talk about what happened, but we _need_ to."

Dean swallowed, his face turning red. He worked hard to keep his face impassive. "Why?"

"Because, I can't perform properly with this weight on my chest. I know you can't either." He was standing close to Dean, his deep voice digging the words in like a sharp blade.

Dean pressed his lips together. "You're right. So what am I supposed to say?"

"We are still friends, right?"

Dean blinked at Castiel, taken aback. "You want to be friends still?"

"Why wouldn't I want to be friends with you, Dean?" Castiel asked, puzzled. He looked confused.

"Because we…"

"Kissed?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, that."

"Dean, you're one of the only friends I have ever had. I would not let something like that stop me from keeping you as a friend."

"Yeah, we're still friends." Dean said, giving a small smile.

Castiel smiled back at him, then turned to put his bridle on his mare.

Dean was surprised, Castiel had been right. The massive weight that had been pressing down on his shoulders since that night had vanished. He felt two-hundred times better, and he felt like he could get on any bull and ride it for the full eight.

Castiel swung up into the saddle and turned his mare, putting his pigging string over his shoulder like a twine sash. "Good luck today, Dean. Don't get hurt." He said before trotting off.

"You too." Dean called after him. He watched as the grey mare trotted away, sighing. Eventually, he climbed back onto the rails to watch the rodeo. When Castiel was up his green eyes lit up with interest.

His calf was running particularly hard, but his mare stayed right behind it, putting Cas in the perfect position. Castiel caught the calf, stepping to the ground before his mare had come to a complete stop.

Dean quit watching the cowboy at that point, he was fascinated by the mare. Her ears were forward as she backed to keep the rope attached to the calf taught. She put that calf where it needed to be. She sat back on her big haunches working for Castiel. His attention was pulled from her when he saw Castiel's brown hat land in the dirt. He had fallen and face-planted, but he scrambled to his feet and tied his calf.

He mounted back up, his dark brown hair mussed where his hat had once sat and let the slack out of the rope, his face impassive as his time came back as a thirteen. He put his string back around his shoulders, and dusted his hat off. He put it back on, his blue eyes looking up at Dean as he trotted out of the arena.


End file.
